Jingle‑jingle, the bell pulled by a rope kept shaking, its sound spreading through the spacious but relatively empty living room.
Klein, who had been sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper and studying investment opportunities, stood up. Dressed in a white shirt and black vest without a tie, he had a casual, at‑home feel.
My first commission as a detective? But I can’t always wait at home for tasks to come to me. Hmm… I need to get a notebook to hang by the door, together with a fountain pen, so that customers can write down the time of their next visit, allowing me to prepare in advance… But for a new detective with no reputation, this basically means there won’t be a next time… Sigh, I’ll just have to be a bit more troublesome for now. Every morning I’ll divine whether there’s a commission today and what time period it will be in, so I can arrange accordingly… Of course, this might miss tasks from extraordinarily powerful individuals. Hmm, missing them is probably a good thing…
As Klein thought, he walked to the door. Without needing to use the peephole, the image of the visitor outside naturally appeared in his mind: One was an old lady wearing a black fluffy soft hat. Her back was slightly hunched, with deep wrinkles on her face, her skin dry and sallow, but her dark dress was formal and proper, looking very neat.
Her temples were completely white, but her blue eyes were quite lively. She was now looking at the young man beside her, indicating for him to pull the doorbell again.
The young man was in his twenties, with eyes similar to the old lady’s. In the increasingly cold weather, he was wearing a black double‑breasted long formal coat popular among
Relying on his «Clown» premonition ability, before the bell could shake again, Klein turned the handle and opened the door, greeting with a smile: «Good morning, madam, sir. It’s a fine day today—so far I’ve seen five minutes of sun.»
He commented on the weather in a slightly exaggerated manner, a topic of small talk that had been popular in Backlund for a century.
«Yes, it’s usually shy and hides behind the fog and clouds, never willing to come out,» the old lady nodded in agreement.
Then the young man asked: «Are you Sherlock Moriarty, the detective?»
«Yes, do you have something you need to commission? Sorry, please come in. We can talk over by the sofa.» Klein sidestepped to make way and pointed to the reception area.
«No, no need,» the old lady said in a slightly sharp voice. «I don’t want to waste a single minute. My poor Brody is waiting for me to rescue him!»
«Him?» Klein noticed that important pronoun and suddenly had a bad feeling.
The very formally dressed young man nodded in affirmation: «Brody is a cat belonging to my grandmother, Mrs. Doris. He went missing last night. I hope you can help us find him. We live at the end of this street. I am willing to pay a reward of 5 soli. Of course, if you can prove that the time and effort you spent exceed this amount, I will compensate you extra.»
Looking for a cat? The reason they commissioned me is because I’m on the same street, very convenient… Klein felt that this was not the detective career he had imagined. This makes me look like a clown… Well, I can’t turn down the first job at the door—that’s the view of a Seer… He mused for a few seconds and said: «Could you describe it in more detail?»
The old lady Doris cut in before the young man could speak: «Brody is a cute, lively black cat. He’s very healthy, with a pair of beautiful green eyes. He loves cooked chicken breast the most. Goddess, he just ran away last night. No, he must have gotten lost. I put a lot of chicken breast in his bowl, but he wouldn’t come back to take a look.»
… Klein curled his lips upward and said: «I’m quite satisfied with your description, Mrs. Doris.
«I accept this commission. Now, let’s go to your home. I need to look for clues and find traces. You should know that the core of deduction lies in details.»
Mrs. Doris didn’t ask for her grandson’s opinion and immediately nodded: «You are the most action‑oriented detective I’ve ever met. Deal!»
Klein put on his coat, hat, and picked up his cane, following Mrs. Doris and her grandson to the street.
Unlike Tingen, many roads in Backlund’s districts had been repaved with concrete or asphalt, so even in rainy weather they weren’t muddy.
Taking advantage of the old lady leading the way at a brisk pace, her grandson sidled up to Klein and whispered: «I hope you can do your utmost to find Brody.
«Since my grandfather and parents passed away one after another, he has become one of the pillars of my grandmother’s life.
«After Brody went missing, my grandmother’s spirit has been affected. She even has auditory hallucinations, always telling me that she hears poor Brody’s cries.»
Klein nodded solemnly and said: «I’ll do my best. By the way, how should I address you?»
«Jürgen, Jürgen Cooper. A senior solicitor.» The young man replied.
Soon, they arrived at 58 Minsk Street and entered the dimly lit house.
«This is Brody’s bowl, and this is his favorite box. He always sleeps inside it.» Doris’s face, full of wrinkles, showed both worry and anticipation.
Klein crouched down and found several black cat hairs from the box.
He straightened up, holding the cat hairs in one hand and his silver‑tipped cane in the other.
Klein’s eyes darkened. Pretending to look around, he silently chanted a divination statement.